


All That You Need

by punkdavekat



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fic Exchange, Fluff, M/M, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-20
Updated: 2015-10-20
Packaged: 2018-04-27 05:15:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5035252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punkdavekat/pseuds/punkdavekat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>wintery schmoop fic for tumblr user wildgrave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All That You Need

**Author's Note:**

  * For [16minutes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/16minutes/gifts).



> projectin my feels about the cold on remus.

A cool wind whips throughout the Hogwarts grounds, rustling leaves from where they’ve fallen on the ground and spreading a chill through your bones. You pull your scarf tighter around you, ignoring the way that the weary cloth of your favorite jumper has frayed at the elbows. A vague ache settles in all of your joints and your hands slightly tremble. 

November is your favorite month of the year; you feel most at peace then, when tree branches have become bare and the ground has nearly frozen beneath your feet. You are far more suited to the cold because your body runs hotter than most others’. (Like the wolf is in your blood, drifting through your veins and trying to pulsate out at any chance.) You’re still freezing what little of an ass you have right off, but its much easier to pile on layer after layer of clothing, as opposed to lounging about in your briefs and a t-shirt and still managing to sweat enough to drown a pygmy puff. 

Footsteps approach the tree near the lake upon which you’ve staken your meager claim. You snap your Defense book shut, so that whomever it is won’t see what you’re really looking at- the blueprints for what James has deemed to be the ‘Marauder’s Map.’ You look up at the newcomer, expression frozen in complete stoic disinterest, aside from the slight raise of your left brow. 

Amber eyes meet grey and Sirius smiles at you.

“Here,” he says, holding out a steaming cup towards you. As his gloves fingertips meet your bare ones, you give him a small smile. 

“What’s in this,” you ask, tone mocking. “Will I grow some extra appendages if I trust you and drink this? Will I spontaneously combust?”

Sirius grins at you, eyes crinkling in the corners. 

“Trust me and drink,” he parrots back at you, and you take a careful sip. The warm, rich lather of hot chocolate overtakes your tastebuds and you give a soft sigh of contentment. The aftertaste is cinnamon and definitely alcoholic. 

“Sweet hot chocolate with a shot of Firewhiskey. Oh, Pads, you know me so well.” 

You give a fake swoon for dramatic effect (and definitely not just to see him smile more) and stare up at him with your best doe-eyed expression. His smile somehow grows even bigger, and he awards you with a chuckle. He sits down next to you and takes your hand. Your fingers intertwine, and he looks at you with slight concern.

“Jesus bloody fuck, Moony, I can feel the cold embrace of death in your fingers. Where’s your gloves?” 

“I’ve decided to forgo gloves in favor of joining the master of demise on his journey to collect wayward souls. He’s coming for you, Sirius.” 

You make sure to put a spooky wavering tone in his name. He looks at you, half amused and half concerned, and you sigh again, this time in exasperation.

“They got too old to wear. I wound up having every fingertip exposed aside from the middle, which is very confusing for me because that is my favorite finger. Do you see my dilemma?” 

He removes his hand from yours, peeling off the gloves he is wearing. 

“You know I have like eight extra pairs, you goof, you could have borrowed a pair of mine.” 

He hands you the cloth and pecks you on the cheek. You pull them on, knowing better than to argue. Sirius is as bullheaded as he is handsome, and he isn’t above pouting at you like a petulant little debutante. 

“There,” he says, voice chipper. “Now you can give every bird the Bird.” 

“Just the way I like it,” you deadpan. “Offensive AND warm. But now your hands are going to get cold. I was thinking about going in, anyway.” 

You stand up, feeling how the bones in your spine crack, and grab his hand to haul him up, too. You clasp hands together again and both start walking toward the entrance to the great hall. 

“Prongs has practice in a few minutes,” Sirius murmurs as you walk past other students taking shelter from the cold. “Pete has to go see his potions tutor, which means we’ll have the dorms all to ourselves. I’m thinking, maybe its time for a good old fashioned-”

You clear your throat, looking pointedly at some first years as you pass them on the stairs.

“-Snuggle pile.”

He whispers this like its some great secret and gives you a wink. You approach the Fat Lady and give her the password, and she eyes the both of you like you’re her Christmas dinner. You give her the password and sneak on through, trying not to incite the gazes of the various other people splattered around the common room. 

Now is the time to huddle together for warmth. For the next hour or so, you have free reign to be as unabashedly romantic as physically possible. Nobody is there to see you bare the tender parts of your soul, the hungry pieces of you that beg for intimacy, the pure need to be really close to someone, aside from Sirius. Oddly enough, that’s really all that you need.

**Author's Note:**

> written for julie (wildgrave over on tumblr)


End file.
